The Wild Things

CHAPTER XLV

Max spent a few hours at the beach, thinking about what he could and couldn’t do, and what he had to do. The sun was high when he made his way back to the fort.

He found the beasts curled up in various parts of the-half-ruined fort, napping after their sleepless night. Douglas was there, his head on Judith’s stomach, and Ira’s arm was hanging over Douglas’s, as if protecting the wound from being known. The Bull was asleep, his back flat on the ground and his limbs splayed in surrender.

Max saw another figure in a far dark corner of the fort. He walked closer to find Alexander sitting inside the king’s chamber, behind the secret door, left ajar.

Max sat down outside the door.

“You want me to move?” Alexander whispered.

“No,” Max said. He looked closely at Alexander, realizing at last that they were more alike than different. Their size, their fur — they were versions of the same undersized and overtrying creature. He thought about putting his hand on Alexander’s back, but when he raised his arm, Alexander flinched. There was a raw wound there, the fur missing and the skin red and bruised.

“Did I do that?” Max said.

“Yeah.”

Max stared at the wound for a moment, then knelt down next to Alexander.

“Does it hurt?” Max asked, hoping the answer was no.

“A little, yeah,” Alexander said, wincing.

Max took the tail of his wolf suit in his hand and licked it, using it to clean the wound.

Alexander smiled. “That’s better. Thanks.”

“I have to leave and go somewhere else now.”

“Where?” Alexander asked.

“Anywhere. I ruin every place I go. I ruined this place, too. I … I didn’t want Douglas’s arm to … to get …”

Max couldn’t say it.

“You didn’t rip it off,” Alexander said. “Carol did.”

“But I wanted a fort. And I told Carol the sun would die. And I wanted secret doors …”

Alexander looked at Max like he was mad. “You really think you wrecked this island? You think you’re that powerful? That you’re the reason that everyone is happy or sad?”

Max wanted to say No, but this is exactly what he was thinking. “But I hit you. I hit you a hundred times.”

“Well, you did do that. No doubt about it.”

Max finished cleaning the wound and dropped his tail.

“That’s why I need to leave. I don’t want to ever do anything like that again.”

“But you still might,” Alexander said.

“But I don’t want to.”

“But you still might. Wherever you go.”

Max wasn’t sure if he was making himself clear.

“But I don’t want to,” he said.

Alexander barely paused. Instead, he smiled, as if Max was being particularly dense.

“But you still might.”

They sat in silence for a while, watching the rest of the beasts sleeping. In their slumber, the giant creatures were infant-like, almost cute, and at the same time pathetic, tragic, burdened by all they carried with them, far more than Max or Alexander could know.

“With all they’ve done, all they’ve devoured, all they’ve said and—” Alexander laughed.

“What?” Max said. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s amazing they sleep at all,” Alexander said.